One time linked by common threads.
Standing now at loggerheads.
Harmony has been lacking.
Personas’ have been cracking.
They’re digging in even more.
Each preparing for a war.
One will win and one will lose.
Each standing firm in their views.
This truth comes a little late.
Cowered from friendly debate.
Peace was but a house of glass.
That kind of calm never lasts.
Little lies to be polite.
Buried seeds of future fight.
If those seedlings were laid bare,
Both sides would have been aware.
From each other would have learned.
Instead these homes will be burned.
The truth at first and throughout.
Would have helped them figure out.
Of the points they disagree.
In fervent discourse both would be.
Without pride, no care of right.
Upon dark shedding new light.
Common threads might still be slashed.
Replaced by ropes that can last.
Faithful to the truth of these.
Small price of discord’s unease.
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